City of Angels

by Kristi Belcamino

  And Amir had said it would be foolish for me to go up against The Church of the Evermore Enlightened. He scoffed at me, saying there was nothing one person could do. He was wrong. I had proven that. The man who filmed King’s beating had proven that. The man who pulled Reginald Denny to safety had proven that. One person could change history. One person could change the world.

  Speaking of Amir, there was only a very small mention of him—a tiny, vague paragraph saying that police were investigating a second homicide victim found in the house and weren’t sure how the death was connected to the other crimes.

  Homicide victim.

  I leaned over and vomited.

  “It’s okay.” Taj held back my hair. “You only did what you had to do to survive.”

  The next minute, Danny and Sadie came racing in the room, swooping me up in a giant hug. Well, Danny ran. Sadie limped. She had on cut-off shorts and a giant bandage across the outer edge of her thigh.

  “Just grazed me, kiddo.”

  The six of us piled into John’s convertible and headed for the L.A. Children’s Hospital. Taj and I had to go talk to detectives at the police station at three, but we had a few hours until then.

  Inside the hospital, we hurried under the enormous colored balls and model airplanes suspended from the vast ceiling to the receptionist desk, which was just as cheery and brightly colored. The woman behind the desk had a warm smile, curly brown hair, and funky eyeglasses.

  “We’re here to see our friend. Her name is Rain.”

  “Sure. I can help you. What’s her last name?” She said it cheerfully as if she were certain we would be able to produce the last name. I had no idea. I looked around at my friends. They didn’t know either.

  “I don’t know. Oh God.” I closed my eyes for a second.

  The woman winked. “Don’t worry. I’ll find her by her first name. It is so original there can’t be more than one Rain here, right?”

  The woman tapped her long pink painted fingernails on her computer keyboard. A frown appeared between her brows.

  “I don’t show any patients by that name.”

  “What?” My eyes widened. “What does that mean?”

  “It could mean she checked out…” Her words trailed off.

  Taj put his arm around me and turned to the lady. “Is there anything you can do to find out what happened to her? Please.”

  The woman looked at us for a moment and her face softened. “Okay. It could get me in trouble…” She turned away and spoke quietly into a phone. After a few seconds she hung the phone up and turned back, speaking in a low voice. “She’s fine. She was released.”

  But it was still bad news. The woman said they had released Rain into state child protective services’ custody. She would be in a foster home within two days. Privacy laws prevented her from disclosing any more information, or so she explained when I begged her, saying she had already said way too much.

  My insides felt hollow, empty. A heavy weight seemed to press down on me, making my movements sluggish as I walked out of the cheery hospital. I would probably never see Rain again. I knew she was safe now, which was some small consolation, but I kept imagining her alone in some sterile room waiting to be placed in foster care with some uncaring money-hungry, system-milking parents. It made me sick.

  But it made Danny furious.

  He kept punching the back seat the entire drive back to the American Hotel. When we pulled up, he leaped out of the backseat and ran into the building, leaving us behind. He acted mysterious about it the rest of the day. He and Sadie kept whispering in the corners. At one point, they disappeared, supposedly to go smoke on the roof. When I next saw Danny, he had a firm set to his mouth.

  “We’re gonna find Rain for you. Don’t you worry.”

  And that comforted me. Sadie could talk anybody into anything and Danny had a loyal streak a mile long. The two of them together were like a heat-seeking missile.

  On the drive to the detective bureau, Officer Craig told us the same thing. He’d also dug around trying to find where Rain was, but had struck out.

  “They gotta keep all that stuff locked up tighter than a nun’s…” He paused. “Uh, you know what…to protect the kids. Say some jackass abusive dad tries to track his kid down or something.”

  “But you’re a cop,” I said. “Can’t you find out anything? You should be able to if anyone can.”

  “I’m sorry. Even if I knew, I wouldn’t be allowed to tell you. I’m very sorry.”

  The streets were quieter now, almost eerily deserted. Instead of rioters, soldiers in full body gear roamed the streets.

  At the police station, Craig talked to the receptionist. “Debra here will call me when you’re done and I’ll give you a ride back home.”

  We sat on a love seat in the lobby and I clung to Taj’s hand.

  “I don’t know why, but I’m kind of scared,” I said.

  “Yeah, I’m not really looking forward to talking to the cops either. I know we didn’t do anything wrong, but you just get the feeling they’ll look at us—you with your combat boots and me with my tattoos—and just assume we’re fuck ups, you know.”

  I cringed, remembering the feel of the gun going off in my hand. “Maybe you didn’t do anything.”

  Instead of answering, Taj rubbed his jaw and looked away.

  A door to the back offices opened and a gray-haired, pudgy-bellied cop called my name. “Veronica Black?”

  Taj seemed surprised when I stood. To him I was Nikki. But he was no more surprised than me. How did they know my real name? Taj tugged on my hand with a question in his eyes. I pulled my hand out of his and said, “I’ll explain later.”

  Taj stood up with me, but the cop barked, “Just her. Someone will come get you.”

  I followed the man with his creaky gun belt down the hall. He flung open a door and I shrunk back, eyes wide.

  My dad was sitting in a chair, his head in his hands. I stood in the doorway, my lips pressed together. I wanted to throw myself in his arms but was waiting for some sign from him. The door swung shut with a loud click and my dad raised his eyes. He stood, his chair toppling behind him, and started to take a step my way, but then turned around to right his chair and sat back down. He looked like shit. I was used to seeing him clean cut in a three-piece suit, but he had on khakis and a wrinkled shirt. He needed a haircut and a shave.

  I stood still, not moving into the room. I just wanted him to hug me. I wanted him to run across the room and scoop me up in his arms like he did when I was a little girl. But that was too much to ask. It was too late and that filled me with a deep sorrow.

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hi, Veronica. How are you?”

  The cop who had brought me into the room was sitting in the corner and seemed to be doing a good job cleaning his fingernails. Or pretending not to listen.

  I blinked. “I’m okay.”

  Before we could say anything more, two other men came in, another officer, and a man in a suit who said he was an assistant district attorney. They told me they were going to question me about what had happened the night before. Why was my dad there?

  By the end of my story, the district attorney guy said it was clearly a case of self-defense, but that I still would probably have to testify during a coroner’s inquest and also at Kozlak’s trial. I’d told them about the homeless guy and the surfers, as well. One guy raised his eyebrows while the other rapidly took notes.

  My dad wouldn’t meet my eyes the entire time. When we were done, the detective and DA guy left, both thanking my dad for being there, but the first officer remained in the corner as if he were security.

  “How did you get here? How did you know what happened?” I asked my dad, eyeing the officer on the chair who was now reading the newspaper.

  “They called me this morning. They needed to have your legal guardian to question you anyway. I took the next flight out.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “You�
��re my kid and you were in trouble. Plus, I think I told you I’m working the program, you know AA and NA and part of it is that I had some amends to make and I wanted to tell you in person I didn’t handle your mother’s death very well and I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t your fault.” He had the decency to swallow hard and look down.

  It was what I had wanted to hear for so very long. But it was too late.

  “You blamed me.” I was shaking, my hands clenched to my side, my face warm and my vision blurry. “You called me…horrible…names and you blamed me…for Mama’s death.”

  He swallowed hard and without meeting my eyes said, “I’m not saying it was right. I’m working on all that right now.”

  We sat there for a few seconds in silence. I figured he wanted me to forgive him, but I wasn’t sure I was ready. He cleared his throat.

  “And you know I’ve been with Julie, well, the thing is, she’s pregnant and so we’re getting married.” He paused, waiting for my reaction.

  “A baby? You’re having a baby?” My voice choked on a sob. It was like a punch in the gut. For a moment I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know what I felt. Sadness, fear, and then, there it was, a glimmer of joy.

  “It’d be nice if you came out to visit and went to the wedding,” he said.

  My heart ached at the thought of having a little brother or sister. And then my dad’s words sank in—come to visit for the wedding. Visit him, not come home.

  I would skip the wedding and save my money so I could fly out when the baby was born. How could I not? I would make sure that no matter where I lived I would be a part of that baby’s life. But meanwhile I had to start my own life here in L.A.

  I had two whole weeks to myself.

  When Taj and I got home, Sadie told me that Little Juan’s was closed temporarily while the owner found new management. The owner was so ashamed at Amir’s behavior that he gave all us employees a paid vacation.

  I didn’t know what I was going to do.

  But Eve did. She told me that rather than moping around about Rain, I needed to help her with a project. The owner of the café had just promoted her to manager and told her he wanted to bring in more events, such as art openings and live acoustic music once a month. The “opening night” would be in one week.

  “I’ve got John and Taj lined up to play some music, but I need some art. That’s where you come in,” she said.

  Eve’s idea involved blowing up poster-size pictures of my portraits. Somehow she had talked an artist friend of hers who lived in the lofts across the street to be the benefactor for my new exhibit. I needed to give him my film by Friday.

  “I can’t possibly get done by then,” I protested.

  “Sorry,” she said breezily, continuing to wipe up a nonexistent spill on the counter. “You’re going to have to.”

  The artist had his own production studio and darkroom so all I had to do was hand over the film with the shots I wanted blown up. It would have been nice to have this connection the day I was so frantic about developing the film with the license plate number.

  I started to get excited about the idea, which momentarily helped me forget about Rain. I was looking forward to going through those shots I had taken of Taj and finding the perfect one to enlarge. He was so beautiful with the light on him that day, I knew it would be a stunning picture—the one where he was looking at me, exhaling right when I snapped the shutter so his intense blue eyes pierced through the cloud of smoke.

  And I had a few of Rain already. I just had to decide which one to use. Thinking of her little face made my stomach hurt, but not like before. At least she was alive.

  I’d decided to include the snapshots of the surfers in my exhibition. It was my own small way of paying tribute.

  RIGHT AT NINE on Friday night, I flung open the door of the café. My friends were all waiting on the sidewalk. We had told them to dress in their finest and they had outdone themselves. I handed each of them a flier that said, “The faces in my heart and mind, an exhibition by Veronica ‘Nikki’ Black.”

  A few people looked confused and turned to me.

  “That’s my real name,” I said sheepishly, ducking my head and hiding behind my hair. I searched for Taj’s face in the crowd. He gave me a long, slow smile that sent a ripple down my arms as my friends laughed and joked, filing into the café.

  John walked up, wearing a pink ruffled tuxedo shirt and shorts with a top hat. When Taj got closer, he took my breath away with his black blazer over a tight white tee.

  Sadie, Eve, and I had spent yesterday afternoon at the thrift store trying to find the perfect dresses. Eve had dug up an old cornflower blue prom dress and looked like a princess, and Sadie had unearthed some sleek silver sheath that made her look like a movie star.

  I’d picked out a butterscotch yellow sundress with tiny white flowers. I liked the way the skirt swung around me as I moved. It had taken me nearly as long to find sandals to match—strappy beige ones that made my legs seem about two feet longer. They were about half a size too big, but for two bucks, they did the trick.

  Danny had slipped away earlier, telling me he was going to be a bit late but had a surprise for me. I hoped it was some more of those yummy tamales from East L.A. No brownies, though.

  I smiled at the picture I had taken of Danny. He was sitting on the ledge of the roof of the American Hotel, strumming his guitar with the downtown skyline behind him.

  The portrait of Sadie was one of my favorites. It was inspired by the night she saved me from the mugger and showed her as the avenging angel she really was. In the picture, she stood spread eagle in the middle of the street in Little Tokyo at night with all the neon lit up around her. The portrait was of her sexy silhouette holding two giant guns at her side like a James Bond girl. The only part of her that was more than a dark figure was her blond hair streaming out behind her, backlit from some lights Eve and I had strategically erected.

  Danny had helped me find Frank so I could ask him to pose for me. I spent an entire morning trying to adequately capture the wondrous map of wrinkles on his face—those lines that told a thousand stories and held just as many secrets. He had promised to stop by the opening, saying he had an announcement to make that would concern all of us. I was baffled but excited to hear what it was.

  My favorite portrait was the one of Rain. It was taken after she had first kicked heroin and we had taken a walk over to Olvera Street to buy some churros. One of the vendors, a man selling ponchos from Mexico, had a big shaggy dog. Rain spent nearly a half hour petting the dog until the man unwound the dog’s leash and told Rain to take the dog over to play in the grassy park nearby. Her eyes grew wide with excitement. Over on the grass, Rain and the dog wrestled and chased each other up and down the narrow strip as I took pictures. The one I blew up for the art show showed Rain flat on her back on the grass, laughing hysterically as the dog licked her face. In it, she looked like the little girl she still was deep down inside. A little girl who didn’t have a care in the world.

  Taj noticed my sudden sadness and put his arm around me, hugging me close as the rest of our friends walked around oohing and ahhing at the pictures. Taj leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Veronica ‘Nikki’ Black, you look amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing something other than black.”

  I couldn’t help it. I blushed. The sound of my name coming across his lips put a smile on my face I couldn’t hide. He knew me. All of me. And it was okay. I felt him press something into my hands. It was a small stuffed seal.

  “I know it’s not your mom’s, but maybe it could remind you of her and keep you safe.”

  I grabbed his face and kissed him for so long that people started cheering.

  Frank came in wearing pressed slacks and a crisp button-up shirt. He leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I fought my inclination to shy away and instead smiled up at him. “So what’s the announcement?”

  He cleared his throat. Eve hushed everybody.

  “You
are looking at the new janitor for the American Hotel. I’ll be busy keeping that place spic and span. Have any questions, you can come find me in my room—number one oh one.”

  I started clapping and everyone else joined in. I hugged him. “That is great news. Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”

  “Don’t get too used to seeing me around, though. I’m only doing janitorial stuff part time for free rent so I can get some money saved. Most of the time I’ll be busy teaching kids at L.A. City College.”

  “Oh, Frank! That is fantastic news! Those students are so lucky.” I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  After a while, Taj and John got busy setting up their guitars in a corner. They were going to debut Taj’s new song, City of Angels—the one he said was inspired by our conversation that first night on the roof.

  After a while, a horn honked outside. The windows were black with night, reflecting the party inside the café and hiding anything outside. With a whoosh, the café door slammed open, startling us all into silence. When I turned, I caught my breath.

  It was Rain.

  Danny was escorting her into the room. She had on silver sandals and a pink sparkly dress. A tiny tiara rested on her golden head. She smiled shyly at us.

  “Hi, everybody.”

  The first person to greet her was Taj. I hung back as he walked over and ruffled her hair.

  “Hey, little one.”

  She beamed up at him and wrapped her arms around his chest, hugging him and smiling. I ran over and grabbed her in a hug. A sob caught in my throat. I hugged her tightly and said, “Welcome home.”

  We threw another party on the roof last weekend. We had good reason to celebrate. Eve was knocked up and couldn’t be more thrilled. John had proposed to her immediately and they tied the knot at L.A. City Hall on Saturday afternoon. We all cried, but I thought John might have cried the most. The couple was saving their money to rent a little bungalow in Echo Park, but until then, Taj and Eve had traded apartments so the newlyweds could be together in the bigger room.